


Find the Heir

by aeriamamaduck



Series: Cyrodiil's Child [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 13:24:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4223361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeriamamaduck/pseuds/aeriamamaduck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her innocence proven and her path clear, Minerva Saturnius has set out to find Uriel Septim's last son. Once in Kvatch she closes the Oblivion Gate and enters the city, shaken and surprised to find a man unlike the one she expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Find the Heir

Minerva dropped her sword with a clatter, leaning on the altar as she took deep breaths to slow her frantic heart. Her body ached, and she had more bloody scrapes and bruises than she’d ever had in her life. Never before had she been so certain she would die than when she’d entered that gate.  _When I took that stone I thought I’d be destroyed along with the plane…_  
  
Savlian Matius had asked her to help in the efforts to retake Kvatch from the daedra invading the castle. She just had to prepare…Had to ready herself to face those hellish creatures once again. “Akatosh,” she murmured. “Talos, Mara, Stendarr…I ask for your protection…”  
  
She heard soft footsteps behind her, and looked over her shoulder. She gasped and spun around when she saw the person’s face.  
  
It was a man, dressed in dark-gray priest robes. His sun-darkened face looked incredibly wearied by fear, and there were visible worry-lines beneath his eyes and on his brow. His smooth brown hair, reaching his shoulders, had thin gray streaks. He had to be no more than forty years old, but his blue-gray eyes looked like those of an old man. As though he had seen too much of the ugliness in the world. The priests Minerva knew were usually singing the gods’ praises, but this man seemed the quieter sort.   
  
She stared at him, and it was like she was looking at a younger version of the man she’d watched die in the Imperial Prison.  _This is the emperor’s son…_  Minerva didn’t know if she should bow or not. Illegitimate or not, this man carried the Septim blood. The Amulet of Kings would surely fasten around his neck.   
  
The priest smiled at her, eyes filled with sadness, and said in a soft voice, “I heard about how you helped the guard drive the daedra back. Well done.”  
  
Minerva swallowed and forced herself to look at the priest…emperor. Her voice slightly shaky, placed her hand on her chest and said in a rush, “I am Minerva Saturnius. Come with me. You’re in danger.”  
  
He frowned, staring at her questioningly. “Danger, you say? You came here to tell me this?” He looked away with a scoff, anger clouding his face. His voice was still lowered as he firmly stated, “Explain yourself or leave me alone. There are many others here who actually need your help.” He stared despondently at one of the families gathered around a pallet beneath the stained-glass windows.   
  
Fearing she had ruined everything, Minerva quickly asked, “You’re Martin, right? The Priest?”  
  
Martin turned back to her and answered bitterly, “Yes, I’m a priest. Do you need a priest? I don’t think I’ll be much help to you. I’m having trouble understanding the gods right now.” He used his hand to indicate the displaced citizens around them, the children crying fearfully as their parents, just as scared as they, held them. “If all this is part of a divine plan, I’m not sure I want to have anything to do with it.”  
  
He was discouraged, Minerva knew. She was too when she’d set eyes on the Plane of Oblivion she’d ventured into, not knowing how on earth she was supposed to survive it.  _I can’t give up now. Everything rests on getting Martin to come with me._    
  
Raising her hands pleadingly, Minerva said insistently, “There  _is_  a plan! We’re part of it!”   
  
Her near-shout caught the attention of the people, many of them falling silent as they turned towards her. Martin, lips set in a thin, angry line, placed his hand on Minerva’s shoulder and firmly guided her to the stairs leading to the catacombs. No one could see them down there.   
  
Martin turned her around so she looked right at him, his face demanding answers. “What plan? What are you talking about? I prayed to Akatosh through that terrible night, but  _no_  help came! Only more daedra!” His grasp on her shoulder tightened as he looked away from her and closed his eyes as though he were in pain.   
  
Minerva knew how he felt. She’d prayed and prayed for freedom in that cell, but no one answered save for the cruel Valen Dreth. All of her hopes and dreams would end with the headman’s strike upon her neck. Martin had almost certainly watched his home be destroyed, his friends killed by the beasts of Oblivion. Nothing stopped it.   
  
He muttered, eyes now on her, “What can you possibly know that would help me make sense of this?”  
  
Sighing, Minerva could only give the one answer she knew would seem so unbelievable. She had to try. “This will sound insane…But you are Uriel Septim’s son.”  
  
“ _Emperor_  Uriel Septim? You think the Emperor is my  _father?_ ” His troubled gaze flitted away for a few seconds, as though he were actually considering the possibility. But he shook his head and quietly but firmly said, “No, you must have the wrong man. I am a priest of Akatosh. My father was a farmer…” 

Minerva bit her lip, trying to determine how to next proceed. She was sure she would have done the same if someone had told her that Gaius and Petronella Saturnius were not her parents, but she couldn’t afford to argue with Brother Martin too long. Not when there seemed to be a thousand other problems outside the Chapel. “Believe me, Brother, I understand your doubts, but I do  _not_ have the wrong man. The man who sent me here, Jauffre, mentioned you by name, and told me to look for you in Kvatch. When I saw the Oblivion Gate outside I knew the daedra were here for you.”

The priest then looked at her with a mixture of incredulity and alarm. “An entire city destroyed to get at me? Why?! Because I’m the Emperor’s son?”

“I just risked life and limb closing that Gate so that you and everyone else could escape unharmed,” Minerva insisted. “Why would I lie to you?”

He sighed and looked back up towards the altar, frowning in thought. “I don’t know. It’s strange…I think you might actually be telling the truth.”

 _Thank the Nine, he believes me,_ she thought with both relief and impatience. Still, she couldn’t very well drag the man out of Kvatch without explaining why. Better a willing Emperor than an unwilling one.

He added, still confused, “What does this mean? What do you want from me?”

Good. He was finally open to explanations. “You need to come with me to Weynon Priory. That’s outside of Chorrol. There we’ll meet with Jauffre, a Grandmaster of the Blades, and…he’ll take over from there.”  _He’ll get you and the Amulet of Kings to the Imperial City and you can both help me deal with Adamus Phillida locking me out of my own house._

Brother Martin was quiet as he walked back up the stairs out of the undercroft, Minerva following after him. Some of the citizens were being led out by the guardswoman, Tierra, and she was looking towards them with a questioning gaze.

“You destroyed the Oblivion Gate, they say,” he stated, and she turned to him with a small frown. He continued, gazing at the last of the people walking out of the Chapel, “You gave them hope. You helped them drive the daedra back.” He turned to face her again, and she found a spark of admiration in his eyes, along with grim determination. “Yes, I’ll come with you to Weynon Priory and hear what Jauffre has to say.”

He didn’t sound particularly happy about it, but Minerva didn’t expect him to. “Thank you,” she said as honestly as she could while she walked towards the doors. “This all sounds insane, I know, but Jauffre will explain everything far better than I–”

“…still have to find out if the Count still lives. Go with the citizens and we’ll send word as soon as we know.”

“Yes, sir.” Tierra nodded her head and quickly followed the retreating crowd out of the Chapel, Savlian Matius walking towards the other surviving guards.

Concerned, Minerva headed towards the captain, the priest following close behind. She called, “Captain Matius!”

The man turned to her at the sound of her voice and a sudden crazed smile appeared on his face. “We’ve done it! I can’t believe it! I didn’t think this could work, but maybe we  _do_ have a fighting chance.”

She asked with a small smile of wonder of her own, “You intend to retake the entire city?”

Matius gave a vigorous nod. “Oh yes, we’re not done, not even close! This was only the first step. If this town is to be ours again, we’ll need to get inside the castle. Lady Saturnius! You’ve come this far with us: will you go further?”

He sounded hopeful, yet Minerva knew getting Brother Martin to Weynon Priory was far more urgent. But she suddenly remembered the refugee camp at the bottom of the hill, filled with people who had lost so much thanks to the daedra still within the city.

She glanced at her charge and found him looking at her, as though waiting for her decision.

Minerva answered, “Yes. I’ll help you reclaim the city. If there are more daedra around, they may turn against the refugees before they can get away. Better we wipe them out now than let them regroup.

The guard smirked. “Ha ha! I knew you’d be up to it! Our goal is the castle gate. We should be able to use this door to get out to the plaza in front of the gatehouse. You know the drill: stick close and keep your eyes open. Let’s move out!”

With that, Matius and the three remaining guards exited through the door to their left. Taking a breath to steady herself, Minerva turned to the priest, who remarked with some surprise, “You’re actually going back out to fight the daedra?”

“I did it before on their ground. This time we have a chance to corner them,” she replied, still meeting his scrutinizing eyes. “Listen, I think you ought to head down with the rest of the refugees. This’ll be a dangerous fight–”

“I’m going with you.”

Minerva frowned. That wasn’t something she wanted to hear. “Listen…Those are daedra out there. Considering who you are, walking right into their hands is  _not_ the wisest course of action.”

This time he glared at her, obviously irritated, and held out his left hand, palm up. The center began to glow a light blue and there was a sudden burst of cold that startled Minerva. His hand was engulfed in frost magic, and it felt powerful.

“I was in the Mages Guild for years, Minerva Saturnius,” the priest said gravely. “I stayed within the Chapel for the same reason as the guards, and that was to protect these people should anything make its way inside. If I need to fight, then I will.”

He sheathed the spell and looked at her challengingly. Clearly she should not have underestimated him.  _It figures he’d be a mage. The Septims were always magic-users._ “Alright, but just keep close and shoot to kill.”

“Obviously,” he muttered as she started towards the doors.

It was still raining outside, which would certainly help quell some of the fires still raging within the ruins. Remarkably enough, the priest kept pace with Minerva, following her and kneeling beside her in the shelter of Antus Pinder’s statue.

“Looks like Matius and his men managed to get rid of the stray scamps around here,” Minerva commented in hushed tones as she unsheathed her sword.

Martin pointed towards the bridge leading to the castle gates. “There they are…And I don’t think they can get in.”

“What?!” And indeed, Matius and his men looked like they were struggling with a closed gate. “Void and damnation!” She shot to her feet and ran towards them.

The captain beat his fist against the iron bars in frustration and turned to Minerva. “Dammit! This is no good! The gates are locked and the only way to open them is within the gatehouse!”

The priest put in, “Are there no other ways to enter the grounds? You know the Count was always fond of adding passageways and the like.”

Matius thought on this for a moment. “We could use the passage at the North Guard House, but that’s always locked.” Then his eyes widened with sudden realization and they fell on Minerva. “Lady Saturnius, you need to find Berich Inian. Divines willing, he should be in the Chapel, and should still have a key to the guard house. Once you have it, get in to the gatehouse through the passage and open the gate.”

The instructions were clear enough, so Minerva immediately spun on her heel and ran back to the Chapel, chest and throat still aching from all the smoke and heat of the Gate. Once back inside she ran a hand through her wet hair to get it away from her face, trying to remember what Berich Inian looked like.

Thankfully she heard Martin exclaim, “Sir Berich!” She turned to find him approaching another middle-aged guard, grim-faced and exhausted.

“Brother Martin. Shouldn’t you be with the other refugees?”

“They’re safe, and I can still help the guard reclaim the Castle. But that’s not important. This young woman needs your help.”

Minerva walked up to Inian, getting down to it. “Sir Berich! Do you have the key to the passage in the guard house?”

The guard looked at her with surprise, and she was once again conscious of her youth. He must have decided she was worth answering, since she did close the Gate. “Yes, I have the key. Why?”

“We need it to get into the castle. Matius and his men tried the main gate, but the daedra have closed that.”

Berich Inian’s mouth set in a determined line as he dug into a belt pocket and brought out the key in question. “Then I will join you. If I don’t make it, take the key and follow Savlian’s orders. Come. The passage starts through the Undercroft.”

Sighing with relief, Minerva started to follow him, then unsheathed her sword when she heard someone burst in through the other doors.

Two legion soldiers entered, panting with exertion. One of them explained, “We came to help! We saw the smoke from the Gold Road.”

Minerva briefly glanced at Brother Martin, who had a spell in one hand and a dagger in the other, and he returned the look with a small nod. “Then come with us,” she said to the soldiers, feeling confident that they could get to the Castle with fewer injuries.

She was quickly proven wrong when they entered the undercroft and were greeted by a small group of scamps. Minerva gripped her sword tight—wishing she had a shield—and ran towards the creatures, cutting them down with furious roars echoed by the guard and soldiers.

She saw the priest run past her, shooting a frost spell that stunned a scamp enough for him to stab it in its chest. He pulled the dagger out and glared at the corpse with disgust. Once all was calm again he said with horror, “Blessed Akatosh, if we hadn’t gotten everyone out of the Chapel…”

Minerva closed her eyes, not wanting to think about that. She also didn’t want to think about how brittle her sword was.  _Oh gods, this had better not fall apart on me._

“Let’s get going,” Inian ordered over his shoulder.

They followed him to a pair of doors that led back outside to an area still blocked off by rubble on either side.  _Wonderful. We’re closed off_. Worse still there were more scamps and more of those lizard creatures scampering about. They noticed the four humans and started towards them with threatening growls.

They smelled of death and smoke.

Sick of these beasts, Minerva once again ran at them with a sharp battle cry, slicing a scamp’s belly open and seeing another fall to an arrow shot by one of the soldiers.

She heard Brother Martin shout, “Take that!” A scamp flew across the field, crackling with a shock spell that kept its body twitching for a few seconds.

A frightening snarl alerted her to a lizard that had launched itself at her, but Berich Inian quickly took it down with a slice of his sword. It went on like that for a few more minutes, Minerva trying to fell as many daedra as possible with the rain and blood in her eyes and a sword that was on its last strikes. But she was ready for this, she was trained for this, she could overcome these hell beasts if she just kept moving and avoided the flame spells.

She thanked the gods above for the quiet as she pulled her sword out of the last of the scamps, hoping they were close to the passage. Remembering Brother Martin she frantically searched for him among her companions. To her relief she found him in one piece, awash in a healing light that cascaded from his hand. “Clannfear,” he remarked as he looked down at one of the lizard-beasts. “Runts, I think.”

“Oh. That’s what they’re called?”

Berich Inian called sharply, “Over here!”

They both sped over to the tower, where the guard was bent over a steel trapdoor. He opened it, revealing an underground passage.

“Best of luck,” Inian said as Minerva made her way in, hanging on to the steel bars attached to the wall.

Brother Martin and the two soldiers were on her heels while she quickly tried to figure the way out without running into the small fires every few feet.

“Those beasts must have gotten here too,” one of the soldiers hissed as he nocked an arrow. “Best proceed slowly.”

“I agree,” Minerva whispered back, carefully walking in a slight crouch with her sword held out.  _I’m not exactly eager to run into more of those daedra._

All too soon they were outside again, but within the castle gates. Minerva quickly found the wheel to open the gate and turned it with a grunt of effort. She heard Matius and the guards shouting battle cries and the daedra screeching as the battle began in the courtyard.

Ignoring how her muscles began to protest with exhaustion, Minerva ran into the fray alongside Brother Martin, who she observed effortlessly switched between offensive and healing spells when the moment called for it.

Dead scamps littered the wet courtyard and Savlian Matius made his way to Minerva. “This area’s clear! We’ve got to get inside and find the Count before it’s too late. Move out!”

There seemed to be little hope for anyone within the castle. The throne room was a shambles, fires engulfing the curtains and scamps walking the halls.  _Merciful Talos, let the Count still be alive…_

Matius and the guards stayed behind to guard the clear throne room while she, Brother Martin, and the soldiers went into the living area.

“Count Goldwine!” Minerva searched the corners of every room they cleared for a…a noble-looking man in fancy clothes.  _Daedra shit, I don’t even know what the man looks like!_

The group finally headed down a hall that had to lead to someone’s private quarters. Unless the Count made a miraculous escape, he could only be in that room.

She had to force the door open and her heart sank in horror at what she saw.

A man lay sprawled on the ground in a pool of blood, two scamps hovering over him. The creatures hissed violently and summoned flames in their claws.

“Oh no you  _don’t!”_ Minerva swung and severed a scamp’s arm, then decapitated it as it howled in pain.

And then she watched as the sword blade splintered apart into two pieces, and she was left with the pommel. “… _Damn.”_

She turned in time to see an arrow hit the second scamp in the head, killing it instantly. That had to be all of them. The castle was clear.

Brother Martin knelt beside the Count and shook his head. “It looks like he’s been dead since this entire ordeal began. I’m not sure the scamps killed him though.” He added softly, “Akatosh guide you and keep you, Ormellius Goldwine.”

When he lifted one of the dead man’s hands and pulled off a ring, Minerva exclaimed, “What are you doing!?”

He gave her a look that said it should have been obvious and showed her the ring. “This is the Colovian Signet Ring, passed down to every ruling Count. Savlian Matius will want this.”

“…Oh.” She was glad the room was dark enough that no one could see her redden from embarrassment.

Tired but still tense with fear, Minerva led the way back to the throne room, where Savlian Matius met them as soon as they went down the stairs.

He frantically asked while peering behind them, “The Count! Where is the Count?”

Minerva answered dejectedly, “He didn’t make it. It’s likely he died when the daedra first seized the castle.”

The captain closed his eyes in despair. “If only we’d gotten here sooner…” Opening his eyes he looked at Minerva, suddenly much older and wearier. “This is indeed a dark day for all of us left. But I thank you for risking your own life to help us.”

Brother Martin stepped forward and presented the ring to the captain. “The Signet Ring, Captain. I retrieved it from His Lordship’s body.”

The guard took it. “At least this is safe. Thank you, Brother Martin. I shall make sure it is protected until a new Count is crowned. Now…if you would please wait here a moment. I need to take care of something…”

Minerva watched the man walk back up the stairs, probably to see the Count’s body for himself. Suddenly overcome with exhaustion she sank down to sit on the edge of the dais where the throne was, putting her head between her legs and throwing the useless pommel aside.

She’d done it. She’d helped save…what was left of Kvatch. She’d helped destroy the remaining daedra and saved the heir to the Ruby Throne. She was grateful for every ragged breath she took, still trying to get her heart under control.  _Talos, I thank you for guiding my sword arm. Kynareth, I thank you for the cleansing rains that fall upon this damaged earth._

She heard a rustle of fabric and looked up to see Brother Martin sitting beside her. He looked just as tired and sounded it too when he said, “Good job out there.”

Minerva cleared her throat and replied, “Thanks. You as well.”

She sat there and silently watched the shocked guards and soldiers wander about the room, not sure of what to do in the wake of the Count’s death. She nearly started with surprise when she heard the priest ask, “So…what is your stake in all of this?”

She shrugged, staring at a tear on the torn leather leggings she was wearing. “After last night…I suppose it’s to make sure nothing like this happens anywhere else.”

“And that involves me?”

“According to Grandmaster Jauffre, it does. So the quicker we get to Weynon Priory, the better.”

“Right…Now I’ll just have to figure out how I’ll explain to everyone why I’m suddenly leaving,” he said bitterly.

Minerva was about to tell him that that was probably not a good idea, but decided it would be best not to make this parting harder than it needed to be.

A moment later Savlian Matius reappeared, wearing civilian clothes and carrying a bundle of cloth and chainmail under one arm and a shield and sword belt—complete with sword—in the other hand.

Minerva got to her feet as Matius extended the bundle towards her and she saw that it was a cuirass, the wolf sigil of Kvatch decorating the front. Surprised, she took it, and was even more caught off-guard when he presented her with the shield and sword.

He stated with sadness, “Please take these, my Lady. I have no more use for them and I’m tired of fighting. They may serve you well in days to come.”

She had to admit she  _did_ want to replace all of her equipment, which had been falling apart since she left the Imperial City. And she wouldn’t get far without a proper sword. But Matius seemed to be giving them to her as some form of repayment, and for some reason that made a lump rise in her throat.

“Thank you,” she whispered, holding the objects close.

Without another word, Matius returned to his fellow guards, looking much smaller than he had when Minerva met him outside the Oblivion Gate.

 _Father would have called him weak,_ Minerva thought, knowing Savlian Matius was anything but weak. Turning to Brother Martin she asked, “Can you wait here while I change into this?”

He nodded, his concerned gaze following the captain. “Yes, of course.”

Stepping back up to the private area, Minerva began to unfasten the deteriorating leather armor and peeled it off.  _At least the Watch gave me my clothes back._  She looked at her bare arms, noting the new bruises, and raised her shirt to check her abdomen. Nothing hurt badly and nothing seemed broken, but there was a bright bruise on her side.

Bruises didn’t matter. They would fade and so would the pain. She pulled the mail on and finished with the white cuirass, noting how much stronger she felt once it was on her body.  _An enchantment, perhaps. Hopefully this won’t fall apart too._

She picked up the sword belt and fastened it securely around her waist, unsheathing the sword and liking the way the steel shone. The sword looked well-cared for, as did the shield, also emblazoned with the wolf sigil.

Sheathing her sword and holding on to her shield, Minerva Saturnius stepped back out to find Brother Martin, praying she never had to spend another night like this for the rest of her life.


End file.
